To Paint a Goddess
by The Mad Hatter Effect
Summary: It's been several years after Amaterasu's departure from Nippon... How does Issun feel about it? ::Issuncentric AmmyxIssun Oneshot::


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but a copy of the Okami game!

---Oneshot Start---

The brush hovered over the ink expectantly, the wandering artist thinking and musing over what he should paint next. His mind instantly wandered back to a certain beautiful white wolf with crimson celestial markings over her pelt… The artist quickly dispelled the thoughts as soon as they came, blushing profusely at what his mind and created, though he hoped that the drunken blush over his cheeks covered it up nicely and anyone around would only think the blush was due to the sake he had previously been drinking.

Grumbling angrily with his thoughts and himself he dipped the bristles of the brush into the blackness of the ink and began rubbing it over the parchment before him in great arches and beautiful curves, his mind free from his work – not once wondering or pondering over what he was subconsciously painting but instead focusing on his memories of so long ago.

He remembered the she-wolf, Amaterasu that Sakuya had had him accompany – though secretly he remembered just being in it at first for the Celestial Brush techniques. Though he had slowly found himself admiring the golden amber eyes of the Sun Goddess over the journey to defeat Orochi: he remembered wanting to paint them dearly during the festival that had come soon after.

He slowly began to clean his paintbrush off in the small glass of water he had set aside and wiped it clean with a paper towel before dipping it into a more vibrant color and continuing on.

His mind worked overtime as he remembered growing jealous of two certain people along the journey. He remembered, the first, it was the blond idiot Tao Master, Wakka. He had come first when they were in the forest, and he was forced to sit back and watch his beautiful Ammy fight Wakka (who he vaguely remembered had called his sword 'Pillowtalk'). The other had been up in the North, it had been a man who could turn into a wolf – Oki.

This had quickly made artist quietly seethe in fury at the thought that Amaterasu might like this 'wolf-man' better than her Issun'.

Grumbling again, Issun quickly shook his head of the thoughts of the Goddess being 'beautiful' and of being Amaterasu's. She was a wolf, for Kami-sama's sake! A _wolf_! But still…

He was most saddened when Amaterasu had to leave with the blond Tao Master. He had brought faith to the Gods, just for her, and painted her wolf imagine to show to everyone. He had given a long speech – which he knew he would probably never again do for anyone else – just to keep her alive in the battle against Yami.

The battle, which at the end, still took his Amaterasu from him…

Stepping back from his work he took a quick look at it before his eyes widen at the image. It was Amaterasu, but not in her wolf-form. She was as he had previously envisioned her just moments before, as a real Goddess, in the form of woman. Long silver hair flowed behind her in the wind, a crimson and white priestess kimono adorning her body, but still showing a nice amount of cleavage…

Her celestial markings were still there, one atop her forehead, and on each her cheeks, and the ones on her arms poking out of the slits in the fabric of the sleeves. Her weapon, the Divine Mirror, being held in her hands, and those mystical beads that had helped her defeat the fiery hog back in the tower where the Wind God, Kazegami, had been found flying around her protectively.

Her wolf ears poking out from the sides of her head, neatly from behind the silvery locks of hair framing her face, and a wolf tail poking out from the back of he kimono pants, black ink – like the very kind she had used for her Brush techniques – at the very tip, dripping off onto the ground as she painted a sun in the sky for all to see.

But what captivated him most of his own painting, was Ammy's eyes… The beautiful liquid golden color that captivated him so.

After a few seconds of speechlessness, the Poncle artist kicked the scroll of parchment shut and tied it off with a vibrant red ribbon, to never open again. After all, it had been several years since he had last since his beautiful Goddess… A painting wouldn't suffice now…

---Oneshot End---


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